


The Best Birthday Present Is Always The Cake

by foodstuffs



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Birthdays, Feeding Kink, Feedism, M/M, Stuffing, feederism, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7169939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foodstuffs/pseuds/foodstuffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete goes to Patrick's annual birthday dinner expecting to return home with a happily stuffed Patrick. </p>
<p>He didn't plan for it to work the other way around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Birthday Present Is Always The Cake

**Author's Note:**

> This took quite a while to write, mostly because I was ill most of the week, but it's finally done and I'm relieved to be able to post it at last.
> 
> Also, I'm loving the new trend for stuffing and WG fics in this fandom at the moment, it makes me very happy.

Patrick’s birthday was a momentous occasion.

It was Pete’s favourite day of the year. The one day he could shower Patrick in all of his unreserved affection without having to find an excuse for doing so. He didn’t even think it was Patrick’s favourite day of the year, but that didn’t matter. By four in the afternoon he’d have a tired Patrick at his apartment door, seeking an escape from his family and their chatter. Every year Patrick would show up wearing the same nice shirt and his smartest jeans, his belly straining against the buttons thanks to his mother’s “overenthusiastic servings”. Pete wasn’t complaining, no matter what the cause.

The Stumphs had a lot of family traditions, ones that Patrick had described to him on several occasions, mostly because they almost always ended in embarrassment for Patrick. There were Christmas charades, Thanksgiving TV specials and fourth of July picnics, annual reunions and family dinners. Naturally, as Patrick’s best friend, Pete was his obligatory plus-one for as many of these as possible. For the smarter events, Pete even put in the effort to scrub up and wear a proper buttoned shirt. Even then, it was his first time attending Patrick’s birthday dinner, rumoured to have the best roast dinner and, according to Patrick, the best cake in the world. Pete had even brushed his hair out of his face for the occasion, and he wondered as he waited outside the Stumph’s front door if his presentation would be appreciated.

“Pete!” Patricia greeted, “You look lovely. Patrick’ll be down in a second, why don’t you go wait in the living room?”

Living rooms, in Pete’s experience, were either incredibly homely or strangely uncomfortable. While his own family’s living room fell into the latter category by being used for functions more than everyday life, the Stumphs’ was the opposite. Pete was perfectly comfortable finding a place on the couch, picking up a television magazine from the coffee table and leafing through it idly until Patrick made his way downstairs. There was even a small dish of potato chips on the side-table, which Pete was considering reaching for. He knew what Patricia would say if he asked her: ‘go ahead, they’re there to be eaten.’

As Pete was nearing the end of the magazine, currently his attention on a review of a new crime series that he was probably never going to watch, he heard Patrick barrelling down the stairs with all the grace of an elephant in a ballet class. A second or so later, the living room door swung open and he strode in, fumbling with the top button of his shirt.

“Mom, how long ‘til dinner?” He called, before he spun around and noticed his best friend’s presence, “Pete, you’re early.” 

“Happy birthday, Patrick!” Pete cheered, “You’re my bestest friend and my best birthday present every year and I’m so happy that this year I get to be yours too.”

Patrick laughed, both from the humiliation of his entry and also at Pete’s babbling, but it was a friendly laugh. A face-flushed and grinning laugh. Even if he was laughing at Pete, Pete found that he didn’t mind it at all.

Patrick raised an eyebrow and asked, “Was that supposed to mean something? Did it mean that you forgot to get me a real present?”

“Of course not, your real present is back at mine so I can give it to you later.” Pete explained.

Patrick still looked a little sceptical, but Pete had never forgotten his present before, so it stood to reason that he was telling the truth. Patrick only wondered what it is Pete bought him that he didn’t want to present in front of Patrick’s entire family. Maybe it was just difficult to transport, but Pete wouldn’t likely buy anything that awkward. He thought for a moment that it might be something strange or embarrassingly sexual, but it wasn’t his eighteenth birthday, that had been two years ago. 

Patricia called to them from the kitchen, “Your aunt just texted, everyone else will be arriving in about five minutes. Make sure you look respectable, Patrick.” 

Patrick narrowed his eyes, “Why did she not include you in that? No, I should say, what you have done to rid my mother of the belief that you’re a degenerate rockstar?”

“I dressed up.” Pete gestured at his outfit, “Don’t I look like the kind of boy you can bring home to meet your parents?”

Patrick merely rolled his eyes, “You’ve met my parents, Pete. It’s true though; you do look nice.”

“Thank you. All this effort for you and I almost thought it went unnoticed.”

Patrick chuckled once again, “Have you always had brown eyes? I could never see through your hair.”

Pete barked out a laugh and choked, “Oh, fuck off.”

Patrick nudged his shoulder, “Shut up, my mom’s in the next room. You don’t want to ruin that hard-earned, boy-next-door reputation.”

\-----

 

“Would you like some mashed potatoes, Pete?” 

Pete nodded and thanked her, and as he’d expected by the time that Patricia had finished serving the first round of the meal, his plate was piled high with meat, vegetables and mashed potatoes. Patrick’s was looking much the same, though it was slightly less mountainous than Pete’s. Patrick grinned at him at he waited for everyone else to start eating, and then once he dug his fork in he was lost to the world.

There really wasn’t much room for focusing on Patrick when he had the task of finishing such a large serving. He begun with the vegetables- never his favourite, something to get out of the way fast- before moving on to taste the meat. It was tender and well-cooked, not too rare but also not so well-done as to be charred or burnt, and it didn’t take long for Pete have maneuvered it all off the bone so that he could get to work shoving it into his mouth. Of course, he was being more courteous than his mind would make out, still trying to impress all of Patrick’s family, but that was second to the food, now.

Pete chewed down the meat in large forkfuls, wasting as little as he could without going as far as gnawing on the bone. The slab of meat that he’d been served was one of the largest on the plate, but Pete reminded himself that he had championed many a pizza-eating contest in his day and got on with it. He had to stifle a burp, something he would not do in most company, at least not casual company, and he felt himself beginning to get full. He was almost finished with the plate, only the mashed potatoes to go, and he knew he could do it easily.

Maybe easily was an exaggeration, but it still wasn’t exactly difficult for Pete to finish the serving. The potatoes sat heavy in his belly, yes, but it was a comfortable kind of heavy. Patrick was just finishing his plate at around the same time, and as soon as he looked up he locked eyes with Pete. Seeing his empty plate, Patrick offered him seconds of everything on the table. He couldn’t really say no to those eyes, to that expression. He couldn’t be the first one to stop eating- no, that was no way to impress Patrick’s family.

So he ended up with a whole second serving of everything, much to his chagrin, but he was determined to power through nonetheless. Patrick was smirking at him as he handed the plate back, and Pete hadn’t really thought that through until now. He knew that he himself was into it, but he’d only ever considered the situation with Patrick being stuffed, and even then he’d never voiced that particular fantasy out loud. He would have done, had he and Patrick ever addressed the not-quite-a-relationship that they shared, but it had just never come up. He wondered then if he was more obvious than he’d thought, or if Patrick merely shared the same interest by complete coincidence. Either way, the manner in which Patrick blushed as his eyes slipped down to where Pete’s hand rested on the curve of his belly secured the knowledge that no, he hadn’t misjudged the situation.

And then he ate, because if he knew where this was going it only made him more determined to reach it. While he’d never imagined himself being the one stuffed to brink of his limits, he was starting to see the appeal. It didn’t do any harm that he was excited by the constant threat of embarrassment around Patrick’s relatives, not that he’d ever be telling Patrick that specific detail for fear of getting slapped for it, but it was true. He was starting to enjoy the feeling of fullness, the heaviness he felt weighing at his belly. The ache that was starting take hold his stomach was welcome, even, because he could already imagine the relief that would come when he finally got a chance to undress and massage it better. Patrick’s not-so-subtle glances were beginning to draw a flush to face as well, though thankfully it wasn’t as obvious on him as it was on Patrick.

He was struggling about halfway through the plate. Pete wasn’t about to give up but was definitely willing to slow down for a few minutes, especially knowing that he’d likely have cake to eat after his current serving. It didn’t matter how quickly he was eating, considering that everybody else was also still making their way through second servings, albeit most of them smaller than Pete’s. He was working now at an even pace with all the others, and would probably clean his plate at about the same time. He hoped the protesting gurgles of his belly weren’t too loud to everyone else at the table, because the more he ate, the more there were. Patrick, next to him, had noticed; he’d glanced over at Pete the first time it happened, and raised his eyebrows. Then, he lowered his hand to stroke down the swell of Pete’s belly and suddenly Pete had to struggle to hold back a low moan that rose from his throat. It wasn’t soothing, not yet, but it was recognition. It was an acknowledgement of how well Pete was doing. 

When that course was finally over, everyone sat back to chatter for a short while before Patricia fetched the cake from the kitchen. It was a little awkward, because all that Patrick’s extended family really knew of Pete was the tabloid headlines and the screaming in the background of songs, and he was finding it difficult to navigate sensible conversations at that particular moment. Not with the way Patrick was squeezing his hip where they couldn’t see, not with the anticipation of shoving cake into his face.

When Patricia left to the get the cake, she turned the lights off as she walked out. It wasn’t long before she returned with the cake, candles lit and prompting everyone to sing, as she made her way over to place the cake in front of Patrick. His aunt was taking photos on her digital camera as Patrick blew out the candles, and then Patricia starting cutting Patrick’s slice. It was massive, almost twice the size of the other slices she cut, and once everyone had a plate Patrick swapped his with Pete’s, leaving Pete with the largest slice.

Patrick’s mom cast him a questioning glance, leading him to stutter through an excuse.

“Oh, uh, I’m kind of trying to lose weight at the moment? So I switched slices with Pete because his was smaller. Sorry, I didn’t want to tell you because I was still looking forward to dinner.”

Well that was a lie. That is, unless he’d started said diet since he demolished an entire pizza at Pete’s last night. 

“I could have just cut you a smaller slice, if you’d said, honey.” Patricia told him.

Pete laughed, “I really don’t mind, Pat. I’m happy to switch with Patrick.”

Patrick smiled at him, and it was genuinely friendly with an edge of something deeper that made Pete’s heart race a little. As he dug his fork into the cake, Pete could feel every swallow filling his belly a little further, pressing against his jeans and his shirt and that hot patch where Patrick’s hand still rested. It wasn’t unpleasant. In many situations, to other people, it might have felt so. Pete though, was more resilient than that, and he wasn’t about to be defeated a slice of cake. No matter how large a slice.

Yes, he was struggling, but his determination ultimately trumped his discomfort. His determination, and Patrick’s subtle encouragement. Once everyone at the table was finished and retreated to living room for a family catch-up, Pete slowly made his way towards the hall with Patrick on his tail. As much as he enjoyed the lunch, he’d been longing to escape and relax for at least half an hour. He wished that it was possible to throw courtesy out of the window and just walk out without having to deal with all the family chatter, but he couldn’t ditch Patrick when Patrick was due to be the highlight of his afternoon. He’d just have to suffer through it, hope that nobody was staring at his stomach, and hope for Patrick to do most of the talking. 

Patrick clearly got the memo on this, because he cleared his throat and announced, “Okay, I think I’m going to go back to Pete’s for a while, I think Joe and Andy said something about presents.” 

Pete nodded and backed him up, “Yeah, they’re going to meet us at mine.” 

Patricia hugged him and smiled at Pete, “Okay, see you later Patrick. Nice to see you again, Pete.”

“You too, Pat.” He replied.

Patrick opened the door and headed outside, letting Pete follow behind him. Pete’s car was parked in the road outside the house, having left room on the drive for the rest of the family, and it seemed altogether too far away now that Pete was all-but waddling across the driveway. He was huffing short breaths, not only because he was so stuffed but also because he was more than a little turned on with the anticipation of what was to come when they got back to his apartment.

“Now, let’s get you home and I can help you relax.” Patrick said, holding the passenger door open for Pete like the gentleman he was, “I’ll drive.”

Pete nodded as he climbed in, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“You did so well, Pete.” Patrick praised, after clambering into the driver’s seat and setting off down the street, “All of that dinner and those mashed potatoes, they were heavy. The cake too, that was stodgy as hell. Rich though, nice. It looks uncomfortable, I can’t believe you managed all that without a complaint.”

“Patrick-” Pete began.

Patrick interrupted him as if he hadn’t even heard the interjection, “As soon as I get you through the door I’m going to take you upstairs and then I can make you feel good. You look so full, I can literally hear your belly sloshing from here. I want to lean a little closer, I want to kiss it and God do I want my hands on you. If I wasn’t driving, I’d-”

“Patrick, please, shut up.” Pete pleaded.

Patrick glanced over at him, at the flush spreading across his cheeks and the way Pete’s eyes were half-closed and surely darkened, and he smirked.

“Oh, is it getting you hot? I hope so.” 

“Patrick,” Pete groaned.

Patrick laughed in response, “Yes, I know. Shut up.” 

\-----

Patrick hadn’t been lying about his plans, because the second he closed the door behind himself, he spun around so that he could pin Pete to the wall. His lips were a blur brushing kisses down Pete’s neck and he hands soon travelled down to Pete’s hips, and he was clearly enjoying this development just as much as Pete if the sounds he was making were any indication. 

“How’s this?” Patrick asked, “Is this good? 

He reached down to rub Pete’s belly in circles, the pressure of his hands a relieving massage against Pete’s tight skin. Pete wasn’t sure if he had experience or merely research, but the way he navigated across Pete’s sweet-spots and calmed his touch over the more sensitive areas was clearly expertised. Pete let a low groan loose from the back of throat, causing Patrick to smile and hum in satisfaction.

“Yes, yeah, that’s good.” Pete breathed.

“Good, okay,” Patrick nodded, “Let me take you to the bedroom.”

He let Patrick maneuver him down the hallway and into the bedroom, pushing Pete’s jacket off his shoulders as he walked him backward towards the double bed. Patrick removed his own jacket and shirt before working open the buttons of Pete’s, pressing kisses onto each of the red marks that they’d left. He traced along Pete’s tattoos and the curves of his overfull belly, listening to the loud gurgling that his motions caused. Pete shifted uncomfortably beneath him, and Patrick decided to return to the massaging technique he’d been using before.

“Patrick, it hurts.” Pete whined.

Patrick cooed back, pressing soothing kisses along Pete’s jaw, “I know it does, it looks tight. I’m going to help, though, I’m going to make it better.”

“I trust you.” Pete told him, softly.

“I should hope so.” Patrick smiled, “Because I’ve seen you look at me like this before, and I can only imagine what you want to do to me. I’m going to let you, as well, I want you to do all that stuff, but I wanted to make the first move. I wanted to make you feel good first. I guess I’m just controlling like that. Happy birthday to me.”

“You are.” Pete agreed, “But it’s not a bad thing. In fact, I’m very happy with this development.”

“I thought you might be. Care to develop it a little further?”

Pete nods, and that’s all the encouragement Patrick needs to start taking his hands a little further down. Drawing over the bat-wing lines of Pete’s tattoo, he made sure to keep one hand soothing Pete’s gurgling tummy as he reached the other below the waistline of Pete’s pants. Pete had already unbuttoned them to give himself more room for eating, so it was a swift task for Patrick to remove them entirely, granting himself access to the indents Pete’s waistband had left. Pete writhed below him, a process which only upset his stomach further, as Patrick lowered his hand to wrap it tight around Pete’s dick.

“If you were up for it, I would let you fuck me right now.” Patrick commented, drawing another groan out of Pete.

“Don’t tempt me.” Pete replied.

Patrick chuckled, “Some other time, I promise.”

He continued to jerk Pete off, slow and teasing like his kisses had been, until Pete was coming undone below him the way Patrick had been craving for so long. He would have continued to keep it slow, bring Pete right to the edge and then back again as many times as he could, if Pete hadn’t started begging him. Begging may just have been Patrick’s weak spot, one that he hadn’t previously known to be a weak spot, but as soon as he heard Pete’s voice whining at him to   
he was immediately drawn to comply. Then, instead of slow and teasing, he upped his speed and the tightness of his hand until Pete was moaning his name and coming all over his hand. 

Pete went limp, and clearly he was going to be the kind of guy who flopped like a rag-doll and passed out asleep mere seconds after he was satisfied, and Patrick was going to keep in mind to make Pete get him off first in future. He wandered to the bathroom to wash his hands so that they weren’t sticky all over himself and Pete, before collapsing next to Pete on top of the covers. He felt a little stuffed himself, it wasn’t only Pete who’d overeaten a little at the family dinner, and as much as he wanted Pete’s help right now it was obvious that he’d have to wait. And if he was going to have wait, bored and horny, until Pete woke up, he was definitely going to give him a nice surprise to wake up to.

He wondered if Pete had anything nice in the fridge.


End file.
